On Her Terms (Premiere Companions Book 2) by Doris O'Connor Page A

was for a moment. Something hard was digging into her sore ass, and a heavy mass pinned her down. She wriggled her butt, gasped at the soreness and the warm, almost suffocating presence lifted off her as Jamie rolled on his back.
    Jamie, of course.
    Nicole gave herself a mental slap as the events leading up to her waking up out of a comatose state in this opulent suite came back to her in breathtaking clarity. She winced anew when she, too, rolled, careful to not disturb the sleeping man next to her. The action made the sheet covering them both slip, and her mouth went dry as she took in the breathtaking masculine beauty that was her escort for the night.
    Even in her mind she tripped up over that word, but she had to be realistic. It was still dark outside meaning it was either the middle of the night, or very early morning. Either way she had to leave, so as to not blow her cover story. If her maid came to wake her in the morning, and found her not in her bed she was duty bound to inform her Papa.
    Nicoletta felt bad enough about lying to her in the first place. She had given her the night off, saying she would be late home, as she was meeting friends after her spa date. A vague cover story she intended to stick to, as long as her bodyguards had not raised the alarm. Then again, she’d left the same message with the staff at the spa, should her goons enquire after her, and as they wouldn’t want to incur the Don’s wrath, they’d go along with that, as long as she turned back up again safe and sound. After all she had given them the slip a lot lately, in preparation for tonight.
    Jamie stirred in his sleep, and she forced herself to take one long last look at the man who’d quite literally turned her world upside down in just a few short hours.
    He looked younger in his sleep, less forbidding, the sharp angles of his face softened in sleep. His stubble was almost a beard and felt rough under her fingertips when she couldn’t resist the temptation to touch him one last time.
    It reminded her of the texture of the ropes with which he’d bound her. Faint crisscross marks still remained on her arms, and she smiled as she followed them with her eyes.
    So much pleasure. Her heart twisted painfully when he turned away from her in a far too symbolic gesture. He wasn’t hers, never had been and despite the possessive words they’d both uttered in the heat of the moment, despite the tenderness he’d showed to her afterward, it had never been more than an illusion. A fantasy, bought and paid for by her, one sweet, hot memory, to sustain her as she got on with the life of being Don Cabrizi’s daughter.
    Quietly, so as not to disturb the man sleeping in the huge bed, she set about collecting her things. Having drunk a gallon of water to counteract the headache she was brewing, tied her hair back in a ponytail, and used the mini bar to great effect to splash alcohol on her clothing until she reeked like a fucking brewery, she closed her hold all with the crumpled dress on top. Next came the note she’d written, which she placed on her side of the bed, so that he would see it when he woke up.
    I’m sorry, I had to run. Thank you for a memorable night. Please get rid of the hold-all , and don’t worry about me. By the time you read this, I’ll be back home, having been picked up out of the gutter by my trusty bodyguards. They’ll think I went out drinking, that’s all.
    NC
    That note seemed too cold to convey everything that had passed between them, and she resisted the urge to add some kisses. That would give entirely the wrong impression, and besides, she didn’t really owe him an explanation, did she?
    He’d been paid handsomely for his services after all. It was her own stupid fault that she had … no, she wouldn’t allow herself to put a label to the emotions battering her soul right now. They were merely the byproduct of her inexperience in such matters, that’s all. Everyone knew that a girl always remembered